


Knock, knock! Delivery From Hell!

by HereComesAComment



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Killing Game (Dangan Ronpa), Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Attempt at Humor, Demon!Kokichi Ouma - Freeform, Demon/Human Relationships, Eventual Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gomennasorry, Humor, If I ever continue it, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Oma Kokichi Being Oma Kokichi, Oma Kokichi Is a Little Shit, Tired Saihara Shuichi, not likely lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:27:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23130028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HereComesAComment/pseuds/HereComesAComment
Summary: His charge—Shuichi Saihara, the bond provided— who looked to be in their early 20s was staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes, clutching a bloody hand to his chest; as if he couldn’t believe that he had just summoned a demon. A typical,boringreaction.He conjured hellfire around him for that extra dramatic effect before speaking in a low, gravelly voice, “So you dare to summon me, the Overlord ofHell?!I hope you are prepared to pay the price, mortal?” He sneered at his charge, and the way Saihara flinched in reaction pleased him.“Uh, no?” his charge replied, looking thoroughly confused. “I didn’t— I didn’t summon you.”✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧In which, Saihara accidentally summons a demon.
Relationships: Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 54
Kudos: 511





	Knock, knock! Delivery From Hell!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much Corn for the comm!! Your prompt was so so sooooo cute!! I had to limit myself from going feral over this hdghbdg
> 
> And thank you to my Sugabae for beta-reading. You're da besto <3

Ouma clicked his tongue in annoyance when he felt the familiar pull at his being. Not even Satan for a full day before he’s being summoned. Great. His charge better make an interesting request, or he swears on his throne he’ll quit demonhood. 

Well, not really. Being the demon lord has been fun so far. He could travel from hell to earth whenever he wanted; the only people he’d need to stay clear of are those petty angels; tempting humans into committing sins has never been easier,  _ and _ he could command literally any demon to do his bidding, however unwilling they may be. And now he didn’t have to bother caring about torturing the wicked souls anymore! (All they do is scream and beg for mercy, how  _ boring _ ), but the perks of demonhood outweigh the cons too much to want to quit.

Still didn’t make being summoned any less annoying though. 

When he felt himself materializing, he quickly cast a spell to appear in his demon form. He felt the dark magic coursing through his body, reshaping and changing him; bones breaking and rearranging themselves to match his demonic form; nails and horns elongating, a second pair of wings tearing out of his back. 

The transformation process was painful and gruesome; maintaining his demon form in the upper world sapped him of his energy, but if his charge doesn’t even cower in fear in his presence, then what’s the point of being a creature of chaos, right? 

As his senses came into being, the first thing he noticed was being in a clean and spacious apartment, which was a pleasant surprise since he was so used to being summoned in a dirty cellar, an abandoned building or a cave. And that was only the  _ first _ oddity about this summoning. 

His charge—  _ Shuichi Saihara _ , the bond provided— who looked to be in their early 20s was staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes, clutching a bloody hand to his chest; as if he couldn’t believe that he had just summoned a demon. A typical,  _ boring _ reaction. 

He conjured hellfire around him for that extra dramatic effect before speaking in a low, gravelly voice, “So you  _ dare _ to summon  **_me_ ** , the Overlord of Hell?! I hope you are prepared to pay the price, mortal?” He sneered at his charge, and the way Saihara flinched in reaction pleased him. 

“Uh, no?” his charge replied, looking thoroughly confused. “I didn’t— I didn’t summon you.”

Ouma pursed his lips.  _ Great _ , another one of  _ those _ types; the type to form a contract and then backtrack as soon they see a real demon. Those were the most aggravating type of contracts to fulfill because they always made long term requests in hopes of living longer.  _ Annoying _ .

At least this one wasn’t running away. Small mercies.

“If this is a joke, it’s not a funny one, Saihara-chan,” he scowled.

Saihara’s eyes widened. “How do you know my name?” he asked, taking a step back.

“Uh, I’d know the name of the person who made a contract with me,  _ duh _ ,” he grunted. “Oh and by the way, don’t even  _ try _ to back out of it; blood pacts are non-negotiable.”

“But— but I didn’t even  _ make _ a contract!” Saihara protested.

“Right, and I’m God.” 

Saihara was starting to get on his nerves. Did he think Ouma was an idiot? Summoning a demon was a long,  _ deliberate _ task;  _ impshit  _ he didn’t summon him!

“Tell me this Saihara-chan,” he started, falling back onto Saihara’s very soft, very nice couch. “The summoning circle just  _ happened _ to be there, and you just  _ happened _ to spill blood on it and  _ accidentally _ formed a contract with me? Is that what you’re saying happened?” Ouma rolled his eyes and gave him the most unamused expression he could make.

Saihara stayed quiet; staring at Ouma with a confused and unfocused expression. Ouma sighed, wishing he would just hurry up and admit to being caught red-handed already.

Eventually, Saihara spoke, he mumbled something too quiet to catch and looked at Ouma with an alarmed expression on his face.

“What? Speak louder, sacrifice!” Ouma ordered irritably.

“That’s— that’s… what happened,” Saihara whispered. Ouma still had to strain his ears to listen to him. “That’s exactly what happened,” he repeated louder.

Ouma narrowed his eyes. Looks like his charge was planning to be difficult. “If this is a joke, it’s not funny,” he warned.

“No, I’m telling you that’s exactly how it is! Look,” Saihara argued, rubbing his foot against the summoning circle. “It’s spray painted. And I was  _ trying _ to get rid of it.”

And the scene confirmed it. Ouma noticed all the cleaning supplies by Saihara’s foot. 

_ What. _

“And the blood is from when I cut my hand earlier,” Saihara continued. “The wound reopened when I was cleaning, so I took off my bandages. Which, I assume, is how the blood got there.”

Sure enough, there was a wad of dirty bandages on the floor as well.

_ The. Fuck. _

“And that’s… how I ‘summoned’ you, I guess,” Saihara concluded. “So, uh, sorry but I’m afraid this was just a misunderstanding,” he apologized.

“Wait, wait, hold on a second,” Ouma interjected. “Are you telling me… you  _ actually _ summoned me on accident? Are you for real?” His mouth fell open in disbelief. “ _ Why the fuck _ do you even have a summoning circle in your apartment in the first place?”

“I don’t know! It was already there when I rented the apartment,” Saihara grumbled.

“What the fuck, Saihara-chan.”

“Maybe that’s why this apartment was so cheap?” Saihara pondered.

Of all the ways to be summoned, of all the people to be summoned by— Ouma didn’t know whether to laugh or be frustrated at the situation. Was this what it’s like to be butt-dialed?

“So, uh, looks like this was an accidental call. You can go home now, Mr. Overlord. I’m very sorry for the inconvenience,” Saihara timidly apologized.

Ouma blinked once, twice. And then he smiled.

“No can do, Saihara-chan! I already told you: blood contracts are non-negotiable, they’re binding. You can’t just undo them. And you, Saihawa-chan, made a blood pact with me,” he explained. 

Saihara grimaced, “So how do I… fulfill the contract then? How long is it going to take?”

“Depends on you.  _ You’re _ the one making a deal with the devil,” Ouma cheerily provided. “So, go on, Saihara-chan! Happy birthday, make a wish! What do you want? Fame? Money? Revenge against your childhood best friend who betrayed your entire village? World domination? I can grant any wish you have, for the low price of eternal damnation!” He clapped his hand after presenting his case. 

Saihara looked spooked at that. “Eternal damnation?”

“Yep! Even if it was on accident, you still took part in a demonic ritual. So, unfortunately, your soul has lost the chance for redemption. So whether I kill you now or you live a good long life up to the age of four hundred— you’ll never make it to heaven! That’s a privilege you don’t have anymore,” Ouma cheerily explained. 

The colour drained from Saihara’s face. “Never?”

“Nope. And if you don't make your request in about… 20 seconds, you won't get to make a request at all,” Ouma offhandedly mentioned.

“ _ What? _ ” Saihara asked, alarmed.

“Straight to hell my beloved Saihara-chan will go!” That was a lie, there’s no time limit to sealing a contract, but what Saihara doesn't know won't hurt him. Or save him, in this case.

“And you're telling me this  _ now? _ ” Saihara squeaked out, panicking.

“Eight seconds,” Ouma reminded, trying not to laugh at how Saihara started flailing.

“ _ Be my friend! _ ”

Ouma stopped counting and blinked in surprise. “Pardon moi?” he asks just in case, because he’s pretty sure he didn’t hear that right.

“Uh. Be my friend?” Saihara repeated more like it was a question than an answer, like he wasn't sure of what he was asking either. “This is kind of sudden and I don’t know what kind of request I could possibly make to a demon,” Saihara sheepishly answered.

“Literally  _ any _ of the examples I gave earlier?” Ouma provided.

Saihara shrugged, “Not really interested in any of those, sorry.”

Ouma stared at Saihara for two, three beats before bursting into laughter because  _ okay, guess this won't be so boring after all, huh? _

He stalked towards Saihara, stopping the spell and reverting to his human form. Ouma didn’t stop advancing until he was breathing onto Saihara’s face. 

Saihara flinched in fear, leaning back as far as he could from the demon. He didn't dare to look away. There was something about the demon that was so mysterious, so hard to grasp, so different from anything Saihara had ever experienced that he wanted to see what Ouma would do next.

Ouma gave him the sweetest, most innocent smile he could pull off, before poking Saihara in the stomach. 

The poke was light and barely had any force behind it, but it was enough to knock all the air out of Saihara’s lungs and make him crumple to the ground in excruciating pain. The place where Ouma touched started steaming.

“And with that, our contract has been sealed. Shuichi Saihara, I hope you treat me nicely and spoil me lots for being friends with a lonely loser like you, okay?” Ouma winked.

Saihara was still on the ground, gulping down lungfuls of air. His skin had stopped burning and the world was slowly coming back into focus.

“W-wha?” he asked, still dizzy from the experience.

“Your place isn’t so bad, I guess. I’m going to be staying with you from now on until the day you die! You’ll let me, right? I  _ am _ your friend after all,” Ouma snickered. 

The slowly dawning regret on Saihara’s face made him giggle louder.

For the first time in a while, he was looking forward to fulfilling the contract more than the payoff.

  
  


⊱ ────── {⋆⌘⋆} ────── ⊰

  
  


"You look like shit."

“Good evening to you too,” Saihara mumbled, not even sparing him a glance.

How rude.

“Saihara-chan, you smell.”

“Mm.”

“Saihara-chan, I set the kitchen on fire.”

“I see.”

“Saihara-chan, can I shave off all your hair?”

“Okay.”

“Saihara-chan, I ate your cat.”

“That’s nice.”

“Saihara-chan, I can break off our contract right now if you tell me to.”

“Did you check the fridge?”

Saihara still wouldn’t tear his eyes away from the case file, sipping more of his disgustingly bitter coffee. Ouma huffed and stopped juggling the plates and glasses. It was no fun if Saihara wasn't even going to react.

Ouma left the room, grumbling under his breath. He soon came back with a few ice cubes in his hands and poured them inside Saihara’s shirt. 

Saihara yelped and jumped out of his chair, bending in whichever way to try to escape the chill. Realizing what happened, he glared at Ouma and protested, “Hey! That wasn’t v-very nice.” 

Ouma snickered and stuck out his tongue at Saihara. “You totally deserved it for making me almost  _ starve  _ to death, you meanie,” Ouma whined, sniffling.

Saihara sighed and threw the ice cubes back at Ouma. Which Ouma dodged easily, of course. “We have plenty of leftovers in the fridge. Besides, we ate lunch just a few hours ago.”

Ouma paused. 

“Saihara-chan, that was  _ yesterday _ . Today’s Tuesday, nighttime. I ate the leftovers last night. It’s been a full 24 hours since then,” he slowly replied.

Saihara stared blankly at him, trying to process what Ouma had just said. He glanced at the clock, then back at Ouma. Again at the clock, then at Ouma. Clock, Ouma. And then slowly blinking in surprise with a hushed, “Oh.”

“Did you sleep  _ at all? _ Or eat?” Ouma asked, incredulous. Had Saihara been focusing on his work so hard that he ignored basic human needs like food and rest? He didn’t know humans could do that!

Saihara shrugged like it was no big deal, “Guess I didn’t.” He raised his arms and stretched, the sound of joints cracking making Ouma cringe.    
  
“What do you want to eat?” Saihara asked, sounding exhausted all of a sudden.

Ouma hummed, pretending to think. He wasn’t really hungry, he just wanted Saihara’s attention away from those damn files for a while. He’s been pouring himself over this case since his uncle delivered the files to him. 

“I want whatever Saihara-chan wants! But I’ll have to cut off your pinky if you make something I don’t like, okay?” Ouma chirped happily.

“Pancakes again, huh?” Saihara mumbled, sighing. He wobbled a bit on his feet, unsteady after hours of sitting still. It reminded Ouma of a baby deer trying to walk in one of those “cute baby animals” videos on YouTube.

Saihara advanced exactly four steps before he dropped like a cordless puppet. Ouma quickly caught Saihara before he could faceplant onto the ground, setting him down gently. Ouma’s senses were telling him Saihara was still alive, but he still felt a pang of panic course through him. 

This was… normal, right? Saihara wouldn’t die from this much, would he? Humans are pretty sturdy and hard to kill; like cockroaches! But Saihara was so thin and fragile looking, despite how much he says he’s been improving with his training sessions with Momota. His contractee better not die from overwork; that’s like, one of the lamest ways to die!

Saihara stirred in his arms, his breathing evening out. Up close like this, Ouma could see his face clearer than ever. There were dark circles under his lashes and his complexion was paler than usual. He looked tired or sick. Ouma wondered how he didn’t notice it earlier.

Well. 

This was a doozy, wasn’t it? 

He didn’t know how to take care of a human, but there’s a first time for everything, right? Hopefully, he doesn’t end up killing Saihara in the process (he doesn’t exactly have the best track record of keeping things alive).

  
  
  


⊱ ────── {⋆⌘⋆} ────── ⊰

  
  
  


He woke up to the sound of a crash. 

Saihara groaned and turned over, lifting the blankets higher over his head. He’ll leave whatever the situation is to future Saihara, present Saihara was planning to get more sleep.

“You’re awake! About time!” came an annoyingly loud voice that came closer with every word.

Saihara pretended to still be asleep, not willing to deal with his high maintenance roommate right now.

But of course his plan didn’t work, because why would it? That would require something in his life to go right for once.

Saihara felt a heavy weight settling on him.

_ Please no. _

“Mooorning, sleepyhead! Had a nice nap?” Ouma asked, leaning over Saihara and violating all federal laws of personal space.

Saihara groaned, accepting his fate. No point in deluding himself that he’ll get any more sleep tonight.

…...

...Wait.

Saihara quickly shot up from the bed, knocking foreheads with Ouma in the process. They both yelped and moved away from each other, covering their throbbing foreheads with their hands. It stung a bit, but at least Ouma didn’t have his horns out today. That would’ve been painful.

“Ow,” Ouma started wailing, “What was that for?! I care for you and nurse you back to health and this is how you repay me?! You’re so meeeean!” 

“What time is it?” Saihara asked instead, completely ignoring Ouma’s sobbing. The last thing he remembered was being disrupted from his work by Ouma pouring ice cubes down his shirt. And then... nothing. 

Did he faint again?

Ouma huffed, indignant at being ignored. “It’s Wednesday, you were asleep for almost sixteen hours and thirty-three minutes,” Ouma informed him. ”Saihara-chan, I thought you died! I never would have forgiven you if you left me hanging like that. That’d be such a lame and pathetic way to go, I’d go against the ancient laws and break off our contract myself! I’d be too ashamed to even call you my contractor! Oh, the shame!” he swooned dramatically, as if he was going to faint himself.

Ah, so he  _ did _ faint. His uncle and his friends would be worried if they knew.

Saihara relaxed and leaned back against the wall. As he opened his mouth to retort, he finally noticed the new…  _ additions _ , to his room. It was decorated messily with flowers in whichever direction he looked. Some were arranged in bouquets while some were potted. There was even a vine hanging from his ceiling fan. And there was also a broken vase on his floor, which was probably the crash that woke him up.

It looked like someone was displeased with the monochrome tone of his room and decided to paint it over in pinks, blues, and purples. 

_ That’s one way to let people know I’m bi _ , Saihara mused.

“Um, do I want to ask?” he inquired, a little afraid of the answer.

Ouma blinked in surprise, as if he had just realized that he gave Saihara’s room a massive makeover, decking it out with flowers from top to bottom. Saihara was pretty sure there were a few weeds as well.    
  
“Oh! It’s cuz I read that it helps sick people recover faster! Something about ‘emotional support’ and ‘feeling less lonely’. So I got you these!” Ouma elaborated, snatching a bouquet from the bedside table and handing it to him.

“Oh um, thank you, I suppose,” Saihara said, awkwardly accepting the flowers. “They’re very pretty.”

Ouma puffed up with pride, “Of course they are! I did my research and everything!” He pointed to each of the flowers in Saihara’s bouquet and listed them off one by one. “These are daisies, peonies, pansies, and Hydran-something. Google says they mean ‘get well soon’!” he explained. 

That was… oddly sweet of Ouma.

“Were you… worrying about me?” Saihara asked, surprised.

Ouma’s eyes widened and he shot away from Saihara. “Of course not! Why would you even ask that? It’s pathetic that you think I care whether or not you live,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. 

Saihara’s lips twitched. “And that’s why you went through all the effort of redecorating my room with flowers?” He let the insult roll off of him with ease, already used to Ouma’s rude jabs and jokes.

“It’s—! That’s because I wanted to! I needed something to pass the time, so I thought, ‘ _ hey, why not prank Saihara-chan? It’s going to take him ages to get rid of all the flowers _ !’ Pfft, you’re so silly Saihara-chan, normally you don’t give yourself enough credit, but now you’re giving yourself  _ too _ much credit,” Ouma started rambling.

Saihara looked at the bouquet again, admiring its beauty. But more than anything, he was touched by the thought and effort Ouma put into this endeavor.

His mouth curved into a smile. “Thank you,” he said, this time more earnestly. “I’m sorry for worrying you.” 

Ouma stopped rambling and sniffed. “I already said I wasn’t worried, but whatever. I’ll only accept your apology in the price of pancakes!” he declared. 

“I think I can do that,” Saihara consented.

Ouma nodded, approving of Saihara’s answers. “That means this can’t happen again! No more overworking yourself! You need to save some of that energy for pancake making, okay?” 

“Mhm.”

“You can start repaying me for my kindness from whenever you’re healthy enough to start moving again!” he ordered, before continuing hesitantly, “So… you’re okay now, right? You need to get on the pancake making soon!” 

Ouma might deny being worried, but Saihara noticed how his smile looked a little strained, his eyes looked a little too serious for him to pass this off as one of Ouma’s regular nonsense speak.

“I’ll be fine, Ouma-kun. I just need to get some food and sleep a little more and I’ll be good to go,” Saihara tried to give him the softest smile he could manage. “Again, thank you for all of this, Ouma-kun. I really appreciate it.” 

Ouma didn’t play it off as a joke or act haughtily like Saihara expected him to. He just sat there and stared. He stared at Saihara with a vacant look on his face and it sent a chill down Saihara’s spine. It was the complete opposite of the expressive Ouma that he knew, he didn’t know what to make of this face on Ouma.

After several moments ticking by with Ouma not moving, speaking or blinking, Saihara hesitantly spoke up, “Ouma-kun?”

Ouma suddenly took a sharp inhale and clutched at his shirt with both hands. His cheeks were dusted a light pink and he looked confused, as if he couldn’t make sense of what was happening all of a sudden.

“Are you okay?” Growing more worried, Saihara tried reaching out to him, but Ouma quickly pulled away. He stared at Saihara with wide eyes, realization dawning on his face and flush darkening. He slowly stood up before suddenly sprinting out of the room, before Saihara could even call out to him.

Saihara was left confused and a little worried, surrounded by a few dozen flowers. He wracked his mind over what could possibly make Ouma react like that all of a sudden. But when he tried thinking too hard, it left his head throbbing in pain. He was suddenly aware of how dry his throat was.

When he went to put the bouquet away, he noticed that Ouma had already arranged for when he’d wake up. There was a glass of water and a plate of sandwiches, along with a vase of flowers on the bedside table. There was a sticky attached to the vase, it said, ‘ _ For Saihara-chan!’ _ with a doodle of Saihara happily eating a sandwich in one corner.

Smiling to himself, Saihara chewed on a sandwich and started thinking. Maybe he could make different types of pancakes for Ouma as a sign of appreciation?

Yes, that was a good idea.

**Author's Note:**

> Saihara: tries to do some spring cleaning  
> Also Saihara: summons literal Satan
> 
> I'm actually quite proud of this one gdrfhgdf
> 
> I had so much fun writing this, i hope you all enjoyed it too! Thanks for reading! <3


End file.
